


Never Take an Ex-Angel Shopping

by firefly124



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, bunker!fic, hints of Sam/Jody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knew it was a bad idea to take Cas shopping for Christmas decorations.  Good thing he did it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Take an Ex-Angel Shopping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsdestiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsdestiel/gifts).



> Happy New Year, wingsdestiel! I sort of combined two of your prompts. I hope you enjoy the result!

Cas stared blankly at the display, head tilted to one side and a frown beginning to form on his lips. A year ago, maybe he would’ve been lecturing about the inaccuracies. Now, he just looked sad.

Dean knew this had been a bad idea. The last time he’d tried to really do Christmas, he and Sam had almost been dinner for a couple of Pagan Gods. But Cas had really, really wanted to experience this “peculiar human ritual” now that he was, well, human, and so here they were, shopping for decorations. And there was a display full of cheesy angels staring at them. 

“C’mon, man,” Dean said, tugging at Cas’ sleeve. “The good stuff’s over here.”

If there was anything that wasn’t angels, it was that shelf full of Rudolphs. Cas picked one up and examined it.

“The myth of the eight flying reindeer is a fascinating interpretation of Sleipnir, Odin’s eight-legged horse. I wonder where he got to after ...” Cas’ voice trailed off.

Seriously? What was this, six degrees of angels? Or not even. More like two degrees? Why had Dean ever even told Cas about that freaky-ass hotel? Oh, right. Because he had to explain how Gabriel died. Yeah, this was working out to be the worst idea ever.

“I have never quite understood where the notion arose of a reindeer whose nose shone red, however,” Cas spoke again. He prodded the flashing bulb on the thing’s nose as if that would result in an explanation.

“Are you fellas finding everything you need?” A salesgirl with curly blond hair, wide eyes, and entirely too much energy popped up out of nowhere. Dean was half tempted to toss some salt at her, just to be sure she wasn’t actually the ghost of Christmas some-frigging-thing-or-other.

“Not so much,” Dean said. “What’ve you got that’s more like ... just winter-themed? Like not so much with the Santa stuff or the ... the angel stuff.”

“Oh, I know just the thing! Come this way.” She turned on her heel and practically bounced over to the next aisle. 

Dean wasn’t sure he was even going to follow her, but Cas was already turning the corner past the Styrofoam snowmen.

When Dean turned the same corner into the aisle, the first thing he saw was wreaths of every possible kind lining the shelves. In the center of everything, though, was a giant train set surrounded by some kind of village. Every house had artfully-arranged snow on its roof, and when the girl—Denise, her nametag said—hit a switch behind one of them, the houses lit up and the train began to chug along the track.

Cas was riveted. Shadows painted on the windows of the houses hinted at people inside, and Dean wondered if looking at this reminded him of how he used to just observe what was happening on Earth. If so, it didn’t seem to be a painful memory, unlike everything else so far.

“We’ll take it,” Dean said.

“What?” Cas turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Dean, where would we even put something this large?”

“I think we can figure something out,” Dean said. It’s not like the bunker was looking to run out of space anytime soon. Sure, they might have to move some stuff, but that was doable.

“First Christmas together?” Denise asked with a knowing smile. 

“Yes,” Cas answered before Dean could say anything.

Dean winced. Cas couldn’t possibly understand what she meant by that. And it was, technically, the first Christmas they’d be spending in the same place at the same time, not to mention as the same species. 

“How romantic!” She clasped her hands together and sighed. “Have you picked out a tree yet?”

“I do not want to cut down a tree for mere decoration,” Cas said in all seriousness. “But it seems counter to the spirit of things to use an artificial version. It is, after all, meant to symbolize the persistence of life through the hardship of winter.”

“Well ...” It seemed Cas could throw even Miss Bubbly Salesgirl for a loop. “... do you have a yard?” 

“Not exactly,” Dean replied before this got any further out of hand.

“But does ‘not exactly’ mean you have somewhere outdoors that a potted tree could go after the New Year?” she pressed. “Or even planted? Can you imagine, years from now, looking at the tree from your first Christmas together and how it’s grown?”

That sounded like a terrible idea to Dean. With their lives? Not only would the thing probably get blown up, but it wasn’t like Cas was going to be around that long. He never was. Not to mention that “the rest of their lives,” or at least Dean’s life, probably wasn’t that long. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea to me,” Cas said with a shy smile Dean had never seen on him before. “What do you think, Dean?”

And what could he say to that, really, other than, “So, do you guys sell these potted trees?”

***

An hour and a half later, they were lugging a ridiculous number of boxes into the bunker from the garage and the biggest potted tree they had been able to find. It was still pretty small, so far as Dean was concerned, but Cas liked it, and he was the one they were doing all this for anyway.

Sam, aka the Grinch, was out somewhere, or at least not answering Dean’s yells for another set of hands. Figured.

After shuffling some furniture around, they had the perfect spot for the tree. Cas had picked out a bright green “skirt” for it—since when did trees wear skirts?—and was currently fussing with it so that it would hide the ginormous pot.

Dean shook his head and got to work on the train. Things with engines were more his speed anyway, though in this case it was less about getting under the hood and more about laying tracks. And setting up road crossings. And figuring out which buildings should be where alongside the tracks. Who knew there was this much to do with toy trains? It was actually kind of awesome, he thought as he flicked the switch for the train’s first test drive.

The houses lit up, and the train began to move with a whistle and a clicketty-clack along the tracks.

“Whoa!” Sam came through the door, arms full of ... something or other. “You guys really went all out! Live tree and everything?”

“The sales associate was very accommodating,” Cas replied.

Dean finally looked up at him to see Cas stepping back from the little tree and appraising it with that same little smile he’d shown earlier.

“Was she working on commission?” Sam asked as he came down the stairs.

“Probably,” Dean admitted with a shrug, pushing himself up from the floor and dusting himself off. “Who cares?”

“Not us, I guess.” Sam set his bags down on one of the tables they’d moved.

“That’s not staying there,” Dean said, before Sam could bitch about where the table had ended up. “I figured we could move it into one of the storage rooms while the decorations are up. That’s kind of a three-man job, though, the way those doors are.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam was rummaging around in one of the bags.

“Do you think we will be able to plant the tree in the spring, Dean?” Cas asked as he stepped carefully over the train and its town. He took in the full effect of the little tree with a town and train surrounding it and smiled.

“I guess. Nobody around to tell us not to, right?”

“I would like that,” Cas said. “Denise was right. It would be nice to watch the tree from our first Christmas together grow over the years.”

“First Christmas ... together?” Sam asked, eyebrows straining towards his hairline.

“I believe she mistook us for a couple,” Cas explained. His smile grew a little, and why exactly did that set butterflies racing around Dean’s stomach? “But it is true that this is the first Christmas we will actually celebrate together.”

Oh. So he knew she was wrong. That was ... that was good, right? So the butterflies could cut their shit, which they had, but preferably without turning into buckshot.

Sam was looking back and forth between Dean and Cas, looking more confused than ever, one hand still in the bag of whatever the hell.

“Not that it would be objectionable if she had been correct,” Cas continued.

“Uh ... huh?” Dean asked intelligently. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said. “Uh, Cas, you may or may not find anything in here useful for this ... conversation that I am absolutely not going to be here for.”

“The hell, Sam?” Dean asked. “Sam?”

The only answer he got was the sound of Sam’s bedroom door closing. Son of a bitch.

Cas had already wandered over to look in the bag. His smile turned into a grin as he pulled out a bunch of green leaves with a bow on them.

“Cas,” Dean started, “what did you mean when you said ... what the hell is that?”

“Were you bothered when Denise assumed we were a couple?” Cas asked as he stepped closer, still holding the leaves-with-a-bow.

“Not ... I mean ... I wouldn’t say bothered.” Dean swallowed. 

“I didn’t think so,” Cas replied. “I did, however, think you seemed bothered when she suggested the tree. Why?”

“Um ...” Dean wasn’t sure there was any good answer to that. “Well, I mean, there were a lot of assumptions there. Like, that we get to stay in one place for long, or that we’d even be around for long.”

“But this bunker is well-fortified and well-protected,” Cas said. “I do not believe you are likely to be forced to move from here.”

“Well, but when we find your grace,” Dean said, “you won’t be stuck here. I mean, you could come back here anytime you want, obviously, but ...”

“Even assuming there is any of it left to find, what makes you think I would want to leave?”

“Because you always do.” The words were out before Dean could zip his trap shut.

“Do _you_ want me to leave?” Cas asked. He took another step closer. “I recognize that you were under duress the last time you told me I could not stay here, but I should not assume that means you wish for me to remain here now.”

“What? No! Of course I want you to stay. _We_ want you to stay,” Dean amended quickly.

“Then I suppose the next question is whether ... and where ... you wish to hang this.” Cas took Dean’s hand opened it, and placed the bundle of leaves and ribbon in it.

Dean looked down at it. There were little berries in it too. Holly? No, that wasn’t right. Besides, why would Cas care about where they put some stupid holly? This was ... oh. Oh shit.

“You serious, Cas?” he asked. Did he even know ... of course he did. Dude had been watching people celebrate Christmas ever since there’d _been_ Christmas.

“One possibility—”Cas stepped over towards the wall and holding the little bundle of leaves up against it.—“is to place it somewhere no one can accidentally stand beneath it. Or stand beneath it at all.”

Dean just nodded, even though Cas now had his back to him.

“Another would be to hang it somewhere that it would be very easy to trick someone into standing.” Cas walked over to the doorway that led to the kitchen. “I believe that may have been what Sam had in mind when he originally acquired this. Of course, it is also useful in several spells, but given his comments, it seems the seasonal custom is, indeed, what he had in mind.”

Dean was going to kill Sam. Maybe.

“A third possibility that occurs to me,” Cas continued, walking back over to Dean at last, “is to put it somewhere that two people might choose to stand deliberately, with little risk of anyone else doing so accidentally. What do you think?”

Dean looked down at the mistletoe in his hand and back up at Cas. Cas didn’t look nervous, but he didn’t look like he knew what Dean’s answer would be, either. Dean was starting to think he had a pretty good idea where _Cas_ wanted to hang the thing, but who could ever tell with him?

“I think ... ah ... I think avoiding accidents is a good idea,” Dean started.

Cas nodded. His breathing didn’t pick up, his cheeks didn’t flush, but he did flick his eyes quickly to the wall before locking them back firmly on Dean.

“You telling me you wanna stay?” Dean asked.

“I thought I had made that clear several minutes ago,” Cas replied. “What I am attempting to determine now is the terms on which you would want me to.”

Terms. Why did he have to make it sound like some kind of business deal? Because Cas, that was why. And he could clearly tell Dean was stalling.

“I think ...” Dean licked his lips. “I think there’s a good spot in my room for this. Unless, you know, you thought someplace else would be better.”

Cas looked at him like he’d just suggested they use holy water on vamps or some equally stupid shit, and Dean was about to try to take it back or laugh it off, but the next thing he knew, Cas had grabbed Dean’s shirt and ... oh, wow. 

Dean’s brain had been sputtering already, but it completely shut down as Cas crushed their lips together. The mistletoe fell to the floor as Dean reached back and held on to Cas’ shoulders, because Cas might be human now, but he was still a force of nature. No way he was being outdone for their first kiss, though, so Dean teased Cas’ lips open and swallowed the moan that drew out of him.

When they finally broke for air, they just stood there for a moment, forehead to forehead. Dean tried manfully not to gasp for breath, but failed miserably. Cas didn’t even bother trying.

“You been wanting to do that awhile, Cas?” Dean asked when he could speak again. He tried to make it sound flirty, but he wasn’t sure he really succeeded at that either.

“Since I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” Cas said.

“Guess we’ve got some time to make up for then.” Dean pulled back just enough to give himself room to pick the mistletoe up from the floor. “Wanna help me hang this up?”

In answer, Cas dragged Dean down the hall to his room.

***

Eventually, they needed food. And maybe some coffee. So Dean ventured out to rustle up a little something, but stopped short as he saw what Sam had added to the decorations. Just outside Dean’s door was another sprig of mistletoe—hanging low enough to almost hit him in the face—with a note on it. As he looked down the hall towards the library and war room, there was more mistletoe, well, everywhere. Dean snatched the note off the sprig outside his door.

_It’s about time, you two. I’m going up to Jody’s till after the New Year. Try to have the place decent by the 3rd or so. Merry Christmas._

Dean rolled his eyes as he folded the note and shoved it in his pocket, then he grinned. Yeah, they were gonna need some sustenance. In fact, Dean should probably pick up enough supplies to hold them till Sam got back.

He turned and looked at Cas sleeping on his bed, hair disheveled and limbs sprawled everywhere. Maybe Dean should wait for him to wake up so Cas should come shopping too. Worked out pretty well the last time.


End file.
